


Rock It Up On the Floor

by Burning_Up_A_Sun



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Chirping, Coming Out, First Kiss, M/M, Pie, Spanking, True Love's Kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-20 23:27:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6029469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Burning_Up_A_Sun/pseuds/Burning_Up_A_Sun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Poor Jack thought it would be OK to tell Bitty his pie crust wasn't pretty. He had second thoughts when Bitty pinned him to the ground.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rock It Up On the Floor

**Author's Note:**

> this is written for the [12 in 12](http://twelve-in-twelve-2016.tumblr.com/) and based on characters created by Ngozi for her [Check Please Webcomic](http://omgcheckplease.tumblr.com/). If you haven't read it, go. I'll wait.
> 
> The title comes from the JLo song, On the Floor.

Bitty had no idea how it happened.

One minute he and Jack were baking pies for an exam grade in their _Women, Food, & American Culture_ class. Talking about the course and the recipe they’d found. Laughing about Pilgrims with blueberry-stained teeth.

As Bitty placed the final strip of lattice on top of the blueberry filling, Jack made one comment, one tiny chirp about how Bitty’s strips were crooked.

“Caddywampus?” Outraged, Bitty spit out the word. “My lattice is _what_?”

Then Jack lay face down on the kitchen floor, flour falling like snowflakes in his hair and on his shoulder as Bitty shook his fists.

“No one insults me in my kitchen, Mr. Zimmermann.” Bitty straddled Jack’s waist, poking him between his shoulder blades with the spatula. “Say it.”

Jack looked over his shoulder and arched his back, raising Bitty’ knees off the floor. “I could throw you off if I wanted.”

Bitty ignored him and slapped the rise of Jack’s ass with the flat of the spatula. “Say. It.”

Jack’s breath hitched and an almost inaudible moan escaped from him. Bitty heard it. His body responded, a tingle sweeping up the back of his neck and across his face. And, if he were being honest, pretty much a direct line to his misbehaving cock, which was trying to push itself out of his underwear and sweatpants.

“Well, goddamn.” Shitty gaped in the kitchen doorway, his hands raised in surrender. “Sorry man, I’m just hungry. Bros gotta do what bros gotta do on Valentine’s Day. Fuck heteronormativity.” He grinned and pointed to his t-shirt which said exactly that.

Shitty tiptoed around Jack and Bitty, shielding his eyes. He didn’t need to see Bitty’s hand pushing Jack’s head toward the floor and raising the spatula over Jack’s ass. Shitty stared at the two pies, still sitting on the pastry board. “Bitty, is that yours on the left? The lattice looks a little—”

Jack gasped and shouted at him as quickly as he could. “Don’t say it.”

Bitty brandished the spatula at Shitty. “I’ll deal with your sorry self when I’m done here.” He pushed Jack’s raised torso back to the cold floor. “This is your second and last chance, Jack Zimmermann.”

Holster and Ransom appeared, following the shouting of Southern drawl. “Ooh, last chance for Jack according to the Mighty Bitty.” Holster laughed, but Ransom smacked his gut. “What? I think Bitty can take him.” Holster pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and slammed a $10 bill on the counter. “Ten bucks says Bitty comes out on top.”

“You’re on.” Ransom shook his hand to seal the bet. “Jack can take him down with one hand tied behind his back.” The tadpoles, who abandoned the postgame highlights on television, pushed into the kitchen and surrounded Ransom and Holster, arguing loudly about who would win and who was stupid for betting.

Shitty, who’d finished rummaging through the refrigerator, stood up and popped the tab on a can of beer.

“Beer me!” Holster called from inside the circle, and Shitty opened the fridge and lobbed Natty Lights at his teammates. “Bitty! Want one?”

Bitty was gone.

Jack was gone.

Only a Jack-sized outline in flour remained on the kitchen floor.

“Bros gotta do what bros gotta do,” Shitty mumbled with a smile, finishing his beer and squashing the can flat against the counter.

~*~

When no one watched, Jack raised himself to his hands and knees and whispered _hold on_ to Bitty. He stood and snuck out of the room, Bittle clinging piggyback. He ran up the stairs and dropped a shocked, silent Bitty onto Jack’s bed.

Bitty held his spatula to his chest, clutching it as if it were a link to reality.

“You were saying?” Jack’s eyes traced the length of Bitty, his tongue wetting his lips. Red spots highlighted his cheeks, but Bitty judged that, based on the obvious bulge in Jack’s jeans, it wasn’t embarrassment.

“My pie crust is perfect.” Bitty waggled the spatula halfheartedly, still on his back. On Jack’s bed. Looking up at Jack.

“Your pie crust is perfect.” Jack bit his lips but couldn’t contain his smile. Bitty saw it in the crinkles at the corner of his eyes.

“If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t be passing the class.” Bitty stared up. Jack’s dark lashes. The flush rising up his neck. The tiny tip of his tongue.

“If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be passing the class.”

“You owe me, Jack Laurent Zimmerman.” Bitty tried to sound firm, but his voice fluttered in sync with his heart.

“I’ll pay, Eric Richard Bittle.”

His feet planted on the floor at the edge of the bed, Jack dropped his hands to the mattress and slid his palms up the sides of Bitty’s body until they rested next to his shoulders.

Jack crowded Bitty, took all the air out of the space, left Bitty breathless.

“Your pies are perfect.”

He dropped his head and slid the tip of his nose over Bitty’s lips, the side of his pert nose. Rested his forehead against Bitty’s, who forgot how to breathe.

“You’re perfect.” Jack looked into Bitty’s eyes, so Bitty could know that Jack was serious. Lowered his body until they were aligned, so Bitty could know how serious.

Bitty couldn’t speak, wouldn’t speak. Afraid he would wake up and ruin this. But Jack’s body felt heavy on him, his breath warm and blueberry. This was real.

Jack closed the minute distance between their lips, breathing the same air as Bitty. Waiting.

“But you’re straight.” Bitty whispered into Jack’s mouth, wanting to lean up and take.

“Am I?” Jack dipped his hips down against Bitty’s and moaned at the delicious pressure that was too much and not enough all at once.

Bitty cast the spatula aside and cupped Jack’s face with his fingers. He brought their mouths together, the kisses electricity between them. He pulled Jack down and nudged them onto their sides, still kissing, exploring, until they were lightheaded and needed to breathe.

“That will teach you to sass my lattice.” A laugh bubbled up from Bitty, and he drew his finger through the flour on Jack’s cheek.

“Lesson learned.” Jack smiled softly and kissed the tip of Bitty’s floured finger. “Dieu Merci for second chances.”


End file.
